Birthday Cake for Breakfast

Rio is eight years old today. I know this because yesterday he reminded me at least 50 times.

"Mom, tomorrow's my BIRTHDAY, not my Birthday Party, but my actual BIRTHDAY,"  he spoke slow so I would understand.

"Yes I know," I answered. "I was there when you were born," I reminded him.

Throughout the day he also wanted to know the date, or the time, or the day of the week. He repeatedly checked the calender on the fridge for proof that I hadn't somehow passed the 26th of July and not told him. All sneaky tactics he's learned from his sister to remind me in a round about way that an important event is approaching.

All of this birthday anticipation leads to one very important birthday tradition in our house.

BIRTHDAY CAKE FOR BREAKFAST!  Is there really anything sweeter?

Cowboy Landscaping, Kind of?

There was a pathetic knock at the door, so I answered it. A young man dressed in a tan cowboy hat, dark blue jeans, and scuffed cowboy boots wanted me to pay him to mow my lawn.

I looked over his left shoulder and evaluated the length of my grass. It didn't need to be mowed, it needed to be watered and fertilized. Too bad he didn't specialize in crabgrass.

"What about your backyard?" he desperately added before I could say no. Followed by his failed grass cutting aspirations. I could almost hear sad violins playing to the sound of neighbors slamming their doors in his face.

I asked him to come back, but he sniveled that the block he had to push his ratty lawn mower was too far for that. While his sales skills were lacking he had guilt down pat.

He finished mowing my front lawn, and returned to the front door. I paid him twenty dollars for the entire five minutes it took him to pretend to cut the grass.

Then...

"The slant of your yard broke my lawn mower," he accused after the money was in his hand.

"I'm sorry," was all I could muster up.

"No really! Do you want to see?" he insisted. "The wheel broke off!"

"No...I believe you..." I told him.

He stood in front of me in an awkward silence. "I guess I'll have to try and push it home," he finally spoke when it was apparent I wasn't offering up any more dough. "I can't mow any more lawns now," he complained as he clanked down the street.

I'd like to think my slanted yard did that cowboy a favor.

Free Two Week Trial Gimmick

I am now the proud owner of a twelve month family gym membership. How did I get suckered into such a thing you might wonder.  Five words: free two week trial gimmick.

The first mistake was letting my husband get the mail. The second mistake was letting him make an appointment. The third mistake was attending the sports club.

After our tour, it was time to listen to the sales pitch. We were informed that a membership includes use of a pool, racquetball courts, a sauna, all exercise classes, cardio equipment, weights, locker room, and a kids club. All for one low monthly price.

I looked over at my husband who lost all sense of negotiation. He was sold the second he received the coupon in the mail. He wanted it bad and it was all over his face.

"Each time we've had a membership somewhere, we never use it," I stated our usual good intentions.

"I promise I'll come every day," he pleaded. "It will be fun! And this is something we can do together."

"Ugh..." I sighed. "This was supposed to be a free two weeks, not a year contract," I reminded.

"This can be my birthday present then," he suggested.

"Your birthday's not 'til October," I harked back.

He sat next to me and put his most pathetic face.

"Fine, Happy Birthday!"

 I'll even the score when I take him car shopping.

How to Clean a Cell Phone

When my husband comes home from work he leaves a trail throughout the house. His keys are abandoned in the front planter, his shoes are shoved in the corner of the entry way, one sock is dropped in the hall, the other sock is thrown in our room, and his dirty work clothes are left in a pile on the bathroom floor. This is all in addition to the drywall crumbs that he's left in his path so he can find his way back to wherever it was he came from.

Out of habit, picking up after two sloppy kids all day, I collected the evidence he left behind and put everything I found back where it belongs. If I didn't, I would get a question like, hey babe have you seen my keys? At 4 in the morning.

What didn't occur to me, is that his cell phone wasn't among the other items in his daily route.

"Hey Babe...have you seen my phone?" my husband asked.

"No, call it," I told him as I continued picking up after everyone.

"Maybe it's in my truck?" he scratched his head as he walked out of the front door.

No luck. It wasn't in his truck, the office, the kitchen, our room, or the planter.

"Where are my work pants?" he asked exiting the bathroom.

"Oh, no!" My eyes widened.

"What?" he questioned.

"I threw them in the wash," I admitted. "Twenty minutes ago."

Yup...it was a goner!

Got Beer?

My husband came home from work to our kids swimming with their cousins in the front yard.  That's right, you read correctly. We have a fifteen foot pop-up pool in our courtyard. My brother was waiting for him with beer.

"Do you have enough beer?" I asked my brother as he walked up the side stairs entering the courtyard.

"Well, I figured you never let Orlando buy any, so I brought him some," he teased.

"Yeah, sorry. It's a vitamin water household," I told him. "No room in the fridge for beer."

Seems the word has traveled around the neighborhood. 
Poor Orlando...his wife never buys beer.

My husband disappears to get the mail from our box up the street, then returns an hour later with a beer can, courtesy of house number four. If he has to run to the bank, he returns with a cocktail, courtesy of house number six. 

"I don't know what's taking Orlando so long?" I complained to my friend over the phone, who lives around the corner. "He only went to buy dog food."

"He's not at the store, he's with my husband," she laughs. "They're in the garage having a beer!"

Am I missing something here?  Oh yeah, BEER!